Just Another Day
by Sweet Perdition
Summary: Two present-day college cynics try to follow the footsteps of the mysterious, fictitious Sherlock Holmes.
1. Tomato Soup

_Disclaimer: Like all fanfic writers before me, I'm obligated to put up a handy-dandy disclaimer. I don't own Sherlock Holmes, even if I do idolize the man. _

Author's Note: This is a Sherlock Holmes fanfic set in a modern-day college setting. It's also the first fanfic I've ever written. For those of you out there who may be inclined to pair up these two cynics, I'm sorry! Mary Sue's are all and good when they're well written, but this is my effort to veer from that. Pouting will get you no where. (Chocolate, on the other hand... *wink*) There _will_ eventually be a romance for one o'em later on, but that's beside the point. 

Enjoy the fic! Be kind and review! 

Always,  
Naomi-chan   


**Chapter One**

    It was just like any other day in the life of a college student. If I can truly be called that. It's almost Easter and still I haven't figured out what's wrong with me. Deadlines have come and gone, and I sit staring at certain failure. I don't know why, but it doesn't trouble me like I thought it would. It scares me more than anything. Scared because of the unknown, of the uncertainty of my future. My father told me once that even if I fail out of college, he was absolutely certain that I would make it in this world. That I would grow up to be someone that people admired and respected. That whatever happened was sure to be the best for me. 

    What a load of bull. 

    But I'd gladly take that load of bull over the other options. I've lived this life for far too long. My fear freezes my days into monotony, consuming any and every non-thinking path I can take. Sure it's the easy path. Sure I always tell my friends and loved ones to never take the easy path. Sure I'm a hypocrite. Bite me. I'm terrified of taking the other path, even if I'm faced with a certain dead end. I lose myself in daydreams and fantasy, even going so far as to attempt to write my dreams to make those fantasies come alive. Maybe for just those few moments I can forget the world around me, the sadness, the absolute fear of everything around me, and imagine that I'm in a world where everything _will_ turn out alright. Where the heroine will always be saved from imminent danger by the hero. Her hero. My life. Not. 

    Something tells me I'm suffering from depression. If I am, I don't have too many of those "common symptoms" you always hear about. I don't sleep fourteen hours a day, nor have I withdrawn from my friends and family. If anything, I'm sleeping less than I ever did in high school, and my almost negligent group of friends that I had had up until now has quadrupled in the past two months. I'm always known for the smile on my face; the really sweet girl who always does her best to make her friends smile. Bah. It's the only happiness I can get, I suppose. There is absolutely nothing that brightens my day more than having made someone's day. To see someone smile and to know that it was _me_ who made them smile. Which is why I get jealous and hurt every time I see someone else make them smile in my place. Yet it warms my heart anyway from the mere happiness of the moment. I hate it. I can never truly hate anyone who makes another person happy. 

    None of that has anything to do with what happened today, nor what happened yesterday or the day before. Although that little annoying voice in my head is calmly informing me that it's important anyway. Che. It's not like anything particularly interesting happened anyway. In my life of monotony it is a rare sight indeed to find something even halfway out of the ordinary. Sometimes it hurts to have a conscience. 

    I don't have any classes on Tuesday, so it's become my custom to sleep in... or to not sleep at all and catch up sometime mid-day before chorus. Unfortunately chorus has ended for the semester, so I'm left with nothing to really want to wake up to. It's been a few days since I've gotten a decent amount of sleep, so I forced myself to go back to sleep after I woke up from the traditional eight hours of rest. Twelve will do me much more use in the end. 

    Anyway, so there I was, trying to find a seat in the cafeteria for my second bowl of tomato soup when my eyes caught upon a peculiar figure. Or should I say hair. In all my tentative tumbles through the world of anime, I had gotten used to the strange hair colors that the characters boasted. Back home I'd seen more than my share of fellow classmates show up at school with everything from magenta to turquoise colored hair, freshly dyed the night before. Yet no matter how used to such things I may be, the sight of someone actually sitting in the middle of the busy cafeteria with _white_ hair made me do a double-take. 

    My curiosity piqued, not to mention the fact that I was a bit lonely myself, and I made my way over to his table. That ever-present smile was still on my face as I asked him if he minded if I joined him. He responded by waving me over to the chair with a casual "Sure." and a smile. It may seem unusual to you, but around this campus, it is customary for people to go around and sit with random people in the cafeteria, as well as smile and say "hello" to any and all who you met on your way to class and back. We also have ice cream socials in the student union every now and then and then go out to make a random tunnel of snow in the dead of winter next to the inflatable pool the school appropriated as a skating rink. And the best part is you think I'm kidding... 

    Sitting down, my first thought was towards the food in front of me. I smiled apologetically at him, mixing in the parmesan cheese. "I feel like a hobbit. This is my second dinner today." As expected, he chuckled lightly at the remark. He looked like he was old enough to be a professor at second glance, but that chuckle could not have been too much older than I was. Maybe it was the hair. The humor was lost on him as well. He might have been more amused if a friend had said such a thing rather than a random freshman. Bothersome, respectable upperclassmen. 

    "Cameron Holmes." 

    "Robin Watson." 

    The irony was not lost on us, I assure you. At least that got a genuine smile out of the guy. Well, more like a smirk. Possibly a half-grimace. Oh to heck with it, at least it was _genuine_. I spotted the tell-tale signs of relaxation as one cynic found another. Ah well, I might as well get the other pleasantries over with if I wanted to have any chance at finishing my soup while it was still warm. "Year?" 

    "Junior." He ignored my slightly surprised expression. I could tell he was used to the incredulous blinks. "You?" 

    "Freshman. Major?" 

    "English. And I assume you're an undecided music major?" I fought against gaping openly. _Bloody hell..._ I opened my mouth to ask how in the world he figured that out, when he answered it for me. "I saw you sing last Sunday." There was still a suspicious glint to my eyes, but I left it at that. I shook my head with a smile. 

    "Elementary, my dear Watson!" I mused sarcastically. Again, that smirk. Yeah well, I could be observant too. "How long have you been a vegetarian?" 

    "When did you start drawing again?" Drat him. He knew exactly what I was doing, of course. It amused him to no end, too. Bothersome upperclassman indeed. 

    "Why do you keep a journal using an old fashioned pen and ink set?" Ha! There! I finally managed to make that smug smirk flicker slightly. But of course, the mighty Mr. Holmes had to play his trump card. He even leaned in and pointed at me with his fork for effect. 

    "You're half-Mexican, aren't you? Mother's side. You also look exactly like she did at your age." I couldn't stop the gape this time, although a part of me was relieved the little "game" was over; I could find nothing else on the immaculate little twerp. The pen and ink set had been a stroke of pure luck, as well as the vegetarian thing. If you're wondering why I was so surprised that he guessed my nationality, you need only take one glance at my skin. I was paler than every relative on _both_ sides of the family. No one, and I do repeat, _no one_, had ever suspected it before I told them or they had heard me speak Spanish. Light almighty, who was this man? How the hell did he figure that one out? 

    That absurdly smug smirk returned full force when I voiced the question out loud. It was beginning to irk me, that it was. _Mental note: Read less Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction._ He waved a hand, seemingly more interested in his half-finished plate of macaroni than answering my question. "Don't worry yourself about it. Just me trying to live up to my namesake. And no, I'm not related to the fictional character in any way that I know of. Unless my mom forgot to tell me something..." He winked. I laughed. Well if he wasn't going to give me a choice, then I'd have to be content with that. A friend is a friend, regardless of how they're made. 

    "You know, around this time, the laws of cheesiness would probably require one of us to say something along the lines of how it was fate that caused our wandering, lonely paths to cross on this appointed day, or some such nonsense." He snickered, nodding amiably. "Tis lucky I don't follow those rules, eh?" Holmes gave me a half-smile before turning back to his food. I firmly squashed down the uncomfortable feeling by returning to my soup. A friend, sure, but the fact remained that I had just met the guy. I could torture him with hideous puns later. 

    Surprisingly - or unsurprisingly, depending on how well you knew either of us - the rest of the meal was passed on in rather amiable silence. At least I had company in my silence. Second dinners were always a pain. Finally reaching the bottom of my bowl, I leaned back, stretching. Some evil creature in the back of my mind gave me an idea. Or maybe it was the inevitable Japanese culture sinking in. Standing and collecting my tray, I nodded to him. The sudden movement seemed to have broken his thoughts, and he blinked back at me for half a second before recovering. I couldn't help but smirk slightly. Ha. Even Mr. Observant himself could get lost in thought. 

    "Well, I'll see you around, Mr. Holmes. Enjoy the rest of dinner." He smirked right back up at me, nodding. 

    "See you later, Miss Watson." 

    I left, pushing my absurdly bare tray onto the conveyer belt and making sure I grabbed my keys before they got whisked away as well. _Well that was an interesting dinner... sorta._ My thoughts reverted back to my Calculus test yesterday and the anime I was going to watch tonight. It was a fat chance that I'd catch the guy around again anyway. Upperclassmen very rarely came to eat at the cafeteria. Easy acquaintance to gain, easy to walk right out of my life. Go figure. I could've used the editing help with my papers too. Not that I would've asked him to edit them, but that's not the point. Bah. Maybe Ana would- 

    "Hey Watson!" 

    "Eh?" I turned at the door to find the white-haired man of my thoughts jogging to catch up. "Holmes?" I let the cold air in as I waited for him to catch up. Not that anyone would've noticed over the air conditioning they had foolishly turned on. Either way, Holmes shot a half-apologetic look at the cafeteria worker who looked less than happy to find a draft heading her way. Hey... since when did I start calling people by their last names? Bother. 

    "What are you headed?" I blinked at him. I'd known him for all of half an hour and here he was asking where I was going? I had just been thinking that I was most likely not going to see him again. Although that light blush was just too funny. It contrasted nicely with his snowy tresses. 

    "The Coop." The O'Connor Campus Center. Not a chicken coop. Silly. There wasn't a single building on campus that didn't have a nickname of some sort. I loved that about this University; it had a lot of character. 

    "Mind if I join you?" He said, falling in step with me as we headed up the bloody hill. I shook my head. 

    "Sure. What do you have to do up there?" 

    "I was going to do some writing." Writing? How original. Oh wait, he's an English major. "What about you?" 

    "I need to update some things on the Stairwells' site." The Stairwells were my a capella group. They had only been around for a year and a half so far. "What are you writing?" 

    "Nothing much, just a personal project." Oooh, secretive aren't we? Fine, I'll take the bait. For now. 

    "Personal project?" 

    "Yeah, you could call it my first novel, I suppose." You mean he hadn't written ten books already? Le gasp! 

    "Only your first?" 

    "Yeah well, I didn't always want to be an English major, you know." He suddenly looked at me with a critical look in his eye. I tried not to squirm, but Light, it was hard! His cool green eyes made me feel like I was a piece of meat for auction. Apparently he found something worthwhile, as he continued. "Could you help me with it, possibly?" 

    What in the world? Help him write his novel? How was I supposed to do that? Sit there and massage his shoulders while he typed the dratted thing out? Fetch him lemonade and aspirin so he could think past his writer's block? "Help you?" He nodded. I waited. 

    "I need to do some personal research on my subject, you see." Personal research? I gave him a flat look. There were more than enough perverted guys in this school without adding one more white-haired bishounen to the list. 

    "You don't say..." Another blush, although he covered it up well with a flat look of his own. Okay, so maybe he wasn't _as_ perverted as I had first thought. Still, it's not like he could really get away with saying those kinds of things around a college campus. First reactions always end up in the gutter, no matter what you do. He was still giving me that look. Fine, fine! "What kind of story is it?" He grinned then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

    "Why a mystery novel, of course."   


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_Till next time... please review!_


	2. Vanilla Chai

_Disclaimer: I'm sure Sir Doyle wouldn't mind me taking his charming characters off of his hands... right? Especially after he went through all the trouble of trying to kill them off and all. *wink* But as of yet my pleas and beggings have fallen on deaf ears. Drat them all. _

Author's Note: Aha! I managed to find another chapter hidden in the strange corners of my mind! (Or rather, Apple Jacks.) My connection has been fluttering lately and leaving me with my knickers tied in a knot for most of the weekend. Since I don't think I mention it in the story, this scene takes place on Thursday of that same week. Also, a semi-warning to younger readers... this is rated PG-13 for a reason, my friends! There do be some language ahead! (Even if the gravest one appears in true Shakespearian form...) Ah, but I shall say no more and let you get on with the story! How many people pause to read these anywhoo? Humm... :P 

Always,  
Naomi-chan   


**Chapter Two**

    "Are you _sure_ they're not dyed?" 

    Holmes glared at me over the rim of his coffee cup. I don't know what he expected of me at six in the bloody morning, but apparently I had been poking fun at a very sore spot. Normally the naturally humane and sickenly sweet part of me would have stopped teasing the first time I found myself on the receiving end of that keen glare, but what can I say... I have a death wish. That was printed in bold headlines by the mere fact that I _was_ unfortunately not still in my bed like any sane person would have been. I silently promised myself that this would be the first and last time I ever woke up before the sunrise for the bumbling fool. For any bumbling fool for that matter. 

    "If you ask me that question one more time, _Miss Watson_, I'm going to leave you here." I tried not to laugh at his petulant threat and instead attempted a pout. Urg. I was never good at pouting; enticing and bribing was more my style. Besides, the git did have the common sense to soothe my half-awake nerves by driving to Dunkin' Donuts and settling a Vanilla Chai as repayment for the lost three hours of sleep. What the bitter April cold of the northeast couldn't do, boiling sugar concoctions could, bless their chemically imbalanced hearts. That and the prospect of being left in a town twenty miles from the nearest warm classroom without a ride or decent jacket strangely did not appeal to me. Haven't a clue why... 

    "So what, exactly, does this have to do with your novel?" I sipped warily at my chai, praying it was cool enough now to drink. 

    "Absolutely nothing." 

    _Bastard._ "Then wha-" 

    "Here they come." Holmes stood and placed his cup on the park bench, motioning for me to stand as well. Stuffing my annoyance at him down into my cup for the time being, I stood as well, peering down the small footpath that wound its way past us. A middle aged couple was making their way towards us, the man with a cane and the woman with a parasol, looking for all the world like they had just stepped out of _Singing In The Rain_. I half expected them to skip down the lane, singing and showing off the latest in MGM's choreography department. Looking back up at my companion I could tell he was amused, yet unfazed. Clearly, he had met this pair before. _Clearly._ I thought in my best Alan Rickman impression. I don't know which was worse; the fact that I was telling horrid puns to my own thought process or that I was amused by them nonetheless. 

    By the time they reached us, good ol' Mr. Holmes was the footman of the classic New England gentleman. Drat the git. I summoned the tiny polite streak that I had been graced with and clung to it for dear life as all my choir lectures kicked in at once. Back straight. Shoulders back. Chin up. Nose down. Chest out. Knees together. Hands folded. Crazy smile on lips. Eyes crossed. No wait... uncross eyes. There we go... that's right. There's not supposed to be four of them. Good girl. Now keep your mouth shut and let _Mister_ Holmes do the talking. _Not like he would tell me what this was about anyway..._

    "Mr. and Mrs. Hayan, may I present Miss Robin Watson, a friend of mine. Miss Watson, Steven and Elisa Hayan." 

    I extended my hand towards each of them in turn. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Huh. The twenty-first century and I was being called "Miss Watson". Go figure. Well, considering I had taken to calling the man "Holmes" in my head, I suppose it wasn't all _that_ strange. I think the pent-up fanfiction writer inside of me just wanted someone that I could actually call Holmes. Watson. Holmes. It should've felt right - or at least sounded right - but the truth was, it felt downright queasy. Then again, calling him Cameron seemed out of whack as well. I could have sighed; my mental argument would just have to wait till I didn't have to plaster a fake genuine smile on my face. Again. 

    "The pleasure is all ours, my dear." Mr. Hayan reported cheerfully in a decidedly foreign English accent, crushing my palm within his before turning it and bringing it to his lips. Stunned, I couldn't fight the blush that crept across my cheeks. Mrs. Hayan laughed lightly at my embarrassment, her blue eyes twinkling merrily. With a click of his heels, Mr. Hayan let go of my hand and faced my companion, all humorous business. "Now, my good chap, shall we take a walk so as not to bore these two charming young women?" He inclined his head back down the way they had come, cane leading the way. 

    "Of course, Mr. Hayan. Lead the way." With a grin plastered on his face, Holmes moved to follow the fellow, but not before turning back once more towards me. "Don't worry, Miss Watson, I'll be back in a moment. Please be a dear and keep Mrs. Hayan company, eh?" If I didn't know better, I'd say that he sounded almost... Canadian. _Nah, just my imagination._ Either way, it was bloody hard to resist scowling back at the deserter. Shaking my befuddled head in a weak effort to clear it, I turned my attention back towards the woman in front of me, an apologetic smile lining both of our faces. 

    Silence. Pure, bashful, awkward silence. 

    *_"Perdoname, señorita Watson, pero... hablas español?" (Excuse me, Miss Watson, but... do you speak spanish?)_ I blinked. Spanish? Suddenly the jumbled pieces began to click into place. The tension wound itself from my shoulders as the smile on my face turned genuine. I was going to kill Holmes. 

    _"Por supuesto, Señora Hayan. Es un placer de conocerle." (Of course, Mrs. Hayan. It's a pleasure to meet you.)_ She beamed at me, happy that she had someone to converse with. It made me wonder how many times they had met with Holmes by himself. And once you start a question in my tactless mind... _"De donde conoce usted el Señor Holmes?" (How did you meet Mr. Holmes?)_ The question hardly fazed her, as she linked her arm through mine and started directing me in the opposite direction that the soon-to-be-maim... erm... my friend had fled. 

    _"Uuuyi! Hace muchos años que e conocido el Señor Cameron! El trabajo con mi esposo por dos años aqui en Nueva York antes que nos mudamos a Inglatierra. Pero dime la verdad! De donde aprendistes español? Suena como si fueras de Argentina!" (My my! It's been many years since I've met Mr. Holmes! He worked with my husband for two years here in New York before we moved to England. But tell me the truth! Where did you learn spanish? It sounds like you're from Argentina!)_ I laughed good naturedly. It was a common mistake. In fact, the last time I talked in Spanish with my Mother, _she_ couldn't place exactly where my accent was from. 

    _"Pues, aprendi lo majoria de mi madre y mis parientes mejicanos, pero tambien tuve una maestra en mi escuela que era de Argentina... asi que creo que tengo una mescla de los dos. Que hace su esposo, si puedo prequntarle? (Well, I learned the majority from my mom and my mexican relatives, but I also had a teacher from Argentina at my school... so I think I have a mixture of the two. What does your husband do, if I may ask?)_ She just kinda blinked at me, as if she were deciding how to answer that question. Eep! I didn't think I was prying, but then again, Spaniards and their culture... but, ah! Wouldn't you know it? Right before I was going to tell her to just forget the entire thing, she decides to answer me. 

    _"Viajero." (Traveler.)_ I blinked. 

    _"Viajero?"_

    _"Si." (Yes.)_ I opened my mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again. Traveler. Right. Got it. Will do. Think in choppy sentences. Urg. Mind-habit for the day... goodness they were annoying... I could only pray that it wouldn't return tomorrow. 

    We were saved from yet anothe awkward silence by our two compatriots, having returned from their scheduled peace-talk and secret assassination plans. Or maybe it was the other way around. One thing was for sure: I was out of Vanilla Chai. "Are you ready to go, Miss Watson?" Was I ever. I glanced briefly at my watch. Humm... if we hurried I could still catch a nap before class started. 

    "Of course, Mr. Holmes, if your business is done." I wondered vaguely if I was putting a bit _too_ much gloss on my words. Nah. It was barely 6:30 in the morning and my sarcastic software was running in overdrive. Gloss was to be expected. _6:30 in the morning, eh? I wonder why they had to meet so early._

    "Then we'd best be on our way. Mr. Hayan. Mrs. Hayan. It was a pleasure, as always." He nodded formally to them both. The couple had on their silly grins from earlier back in place. Meant to amuse, yet at the same time revealing nothing. Man, I wish I could make use of that mask. Holmes held out his arm to me and I tentatively took it, nodding my own goodbye to the Hayans. They made a lovely couple. Really. Mr. and Mrs. Peel. I could just see Mr. Hayan, prim and proper gentleman in a tophat and sporting a murky green dress with frills, swishing his brown mustache in a grin. I quickly covered my giggle with a light cough. Holmes took the chance to look at me rather oddly, but he thankfully remained silent. 

    "Goodbye, goodbye! Parting is such sweet sorrow! Till next time, ol' chap?" Mr. Hayan winked and nudged Holmes with his elbow. The cough grew a little louder. 

    _"Fue un placer conocerles." (It was a pleasure meeting you.)_ I stated, more for the sake of Mrs. Hayan than anything else. Although I had the sneaking suspicion that she understood a bit more English than she was letting on. 

    _"Ah! Igualmente, señorita Watson. Buena suerte." (Oh! The same to you, Miss Watson. Good luck.)_ I blinked. _Good luck?_ Why did I have the feeling... Moments later I found myself being easily steered, arms linked in general nineteenth century fashion, by the gallant Mr. Holmes back to his car and away from the retreating backs of the Hayans. My head still wandering a bit in La-La Land, I almost missed tossing my empty cup into a trash can on the way out. Glancing sideways at the silent figure beside me I smiled. That look of rather serious quandry rather suited his sharp features. It matched the confuzzled reverie I was still floating in. 

    "Old friends?" I asked as lightly as I could. We had almost reached his car and the silence was beginning to tickle my nerves. I felt his arm tense slightly against mine, causing me to look up, but whatever thought had crossed his strange mind had already passed. In its wake were two twinkling green eyes, growing more mischievious by the moment. Bloody hell... a tiny knot of nervousness and worry began to form in the pit of my stomach. He opened the car door for me, and for once I allowed him to help me in, rather preoccupied on figuring out a way to worm myself out of whatever plot he had just placed me in. 

    "You could say that, I suppose. I've only just met them today." The door closed just as my mouth opened to respond, leaving me grumpy at having to wait till he entered the vehicle as well. _Really,_ It had been barely a day and a half since I had agreed to go on this Light-blasted trip - since I had even set eyes on the git! - and already he was teasing me to the point of frustration. I could see his half-smirk as he rounded the hood of the car to the driver's side. _And enjoying it too. The bloody, woolheadded, good-for-nothing slop of a shoe lickin', mother's ball of flamin' brandy-surrogate-soured, prematurely-decanted, epsilon-minus of a rupscalli-_ The door opened. I could almost feel the sarcasm dripping from his very presence. "Sorry about that. Don't you hate it when conversations get cut off by car doors? Annoying, really." 

    ... "Annoying. Right." I coughed lightly, immediately banishing my further thoughts. 

    Apparently ignoring the slight blush that had decided to grace my cheeks, he continued, although he had the decency to drop the sarcasm from his voice. "Their son and I used to go to the same high school, but I'd never met them in person or otherwise until this morning." He started the car, and soon the green-grey slopes of northern New York were flying past us. 

    "Why now?" 

    "Their son died." 

    My face dropped, saddened. "Oh. But they looked so happy..." Holmes looked at me strangely out of the corner of his eye. 

    "He died five years ago, Miss Watson." I blinked in surprise. It seemed I'd been doing that alot lately. 

    "Five years?! Then why-" 

    "He was murdered." He said with finality, as if that explained everything. My brain was still whirling on the last dregs of sugar to fully understand his words. The set of his jaw demanded no further questions on that point, however, so I attempted a different route. 

    "So why did you ask me to come?" He blinked. _Startled? Mister Holmes startled?_ I would have laughed if the conversation had not been so serious. 

    "Isn't it obvious?" You would have thought I had asked if the sky was blue. 

    _"Perdon si no soy tan gran genio como usted." (Sorry if I'm not as grand a genius as you are.)_ He blinked again, then smiled suddenly. 

    "On the contrary, Miss Watson, I think you're finally catching up." My mind scrambled to make some sense, _any_ sense, of his words. _Eggs._ It decided, _Scrambled eggs and soy sauce._ I sighed sadly. I really had gone insane this time. At least now I'd have an excuse for failing all my finals. Good ol' Mr. Holmes was chuckling to himself, using the pretence of driving to cover his blatant inattention to my complete and utter confusion. As soon as I could make heads or tails of the english language, Cameron Holmes was going to get an earful. As it was, the rest of the drive continued in silence, Holmes lost in thought and myself still lost in my own mind. 

    It wasn't until the campus was in sight that I sought to break the silence, coherant thoughts breaking through the mist. "So... what am I supposed to call you?" 

    A hint of a scowl passed over his features for the barest of moments, but vanished without a trace the next, leaving me to wonder if it had actually been there in the first place. _Imagining things again, are we, Robin?_ He dropped his eyes from the towering hill before us to look at me, amused. "What do you mean?" 

    "Well I can't very well call you 'Mr. Holmes' around campus - plus it seems far too formal - but calling you 'Cameron' just doesn't feel right. 'Holmes' sounds like I should be looking for the Great Detective himself." Oh Light, he was grinning at me. "Not to mention that I have to repress the urge to look around for my mother whenever someone calls 'Miss Watson'." 

    "I'm hurt, Miss Watson. I thought calling each other by their first names was one of the first signs of true friendship." I gave him a decidedly flat look. "But now that you mention it, I suppose it was inevitable considering our namesakes. When one grows up hearing about 'Holmes and Watson', it can be hard to call them anything else. However... I think that in this case, the names might just work." I was still reeling too much from the trip to insanity to catch the double meaning on that one. I nodded dumbly. 

    "Then... Holmes?" 

    "Yes, Watson?" 

    "There's something that's bothering me." 

    "Hum?" 

    "If this wasn't for your book, then what is?" 

    "Eh? Oh! That thing." He shrugged. "It's not quite ready yet." Well I had figured that much. Git... that was quickly becoming the overused word of the day. "Can you possibly help me out sometime this weekend, maybe?" I considered my schedule... yup. I was a complete social outcast. Maybe that was why I had accepted this cruel outing in the first place. 

    "Sounds good. I meet my friend Ana in the mornings for brunch, and I have Anime Club at night, but I'm free anytime during the afternoon." 

    "Lovely. I'll come get you around say, two then?" 

    "Two's fine. Although you might have to drag me out of an anime-watching session." I chuckled. Ah, Saturdays. The one day a week I allowed myself to actually watch the dratted animated things. More than a hobby and the birth of many an obsession. Laugh if you want, but I can never deny my obsessions. At least not with a straight face. Or for very long. "I'll leave a note on my door if that's the case. Would it do me any good to ask where we're going or what we're going to do?" 

    "Absolutely none." 

    "Hn. Thought so." The car rolled to a halt in front of my dorm - stratigically placed at the very top of the bloody Cardiac Hill. "Thanks." I said, semi-automatically, opening the door an hopping out. I was about to close the door when Holmes called out to me. 

    "Oh and Watson? Bring a flashlight." _What the...?_ I blinked, nodding absently. 

    "Sure. But... Holmes...? There's something I've really been meaning to ask you..." My face turned serious. His green eyes turned somber at the subdued tone of my voice. 

    "What?" 

    "... Are you absolutely, positively _sure_ that's your natural hair color?"   


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Random Notes:

* I realize that I'm missing all the accents, as well as bending a great deal of Spanish grammer... however, laziness and schoolwork have taken presidence over looking up the silly html codes for them, so please excuse the silly non-correct spanish! I'll try and fix them later after finals... 

Reviews... 

    Bonnie S ~ Mmmm! *munches merrily on snickers bars now that lent's over* Thank you!! And as for that, well... Holmes hasn't quite let me in on that secret yet either. *wink*     March Hare ~ *blushes* I'm honored that you think my fem-Watson story is worth reading! Indeed, I've read many a fem-Watson story that I've enjoyed, which is one of the reasons this story popped into my head, I suppose! As for your deductions... 1. I've been an avid anime fan(atic) for around five months now. (Rurouni Kenshin's slowly stomping down Weiss Kreuz Gluhen and Samurai Deeper Kyo as my favorite... random info...) 2. The Fellowship of the Ring did indeed impart a good impression on me, but I'm afraid my reference was towards the prelude, The Hobbit, where they mention the food in the opening chapters. (At least, that is how I remember it...) I could be wrong, however, as I didn't get very far past those first two chapters. *wink* 3+. I am in college, although I am (surprisingly enough) not a cynic. Perhaps a bit sarcastic on the edges, but not much more. Robin is a far cry from myself. As for being well-read... I must agree with you on the Doyle, but I'm afraid I'm more of a horridly long series girl. Sherlock Holmes, Wheel of Time, Sword of Truth, The Foundation Series, Harry Potter... those are more likely to be found in my collection. (As this random note gets longer and longer... ah well!)     Brink ~ Thank you! I'll get around to it eventually... surely... :)     Hermione Holmes ~ Hehe, while I tend to think my mind jumps all over the place while writing this, it's nice to know that it flows as well. *Wink*     Kerowyn ~ Wheee! Thanks! And I'll have you know that I couldn't feel my hands for hours after helping build that tunnel... dratted winter...     LOTR Protection Agency ~ *waves* Glad you liked it! *salutes* I wish you luck in your duty, O brave protector! :P     Justafriend ~ Tee hee, thanks! This is and it isn't my own life. White-haird, green-eyed males don't have a habit of popping up during dinner time around here, unfortunately. But thanks for reviewing, Mum. :)     justincrywolf ~ *bounces* It comes from all those years of RPing... really. *wink*     Mrs. PDR Vandertramp ~ *chuckles* My dear sister, you still have the writing talent of the family, even if you try to say otherwise! And you absolutely must drop by next year for a 'personalized' tour! *points to the opposite end of the universe (the actual top, if you must know)* 

Till next time... please review! 


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